


Down The Liffey

by spacemonkey



Category: U2
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edge was fighting a losing battle and he stayed there hidden under the sheets until he could not bear it any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down The Liffey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fouroux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fouroux/gifts).



> Jana asked for a fic like this a while back, though I think it turned out a bit angstier than she might have wanted. It's still fluffy though, right? I ended up with a migraine today, so I can relate, just a little. This isn't set in any time period really, though for some reason it felt like Vertigo era to me. The Liffey is a river that runs through Dublin, in case you were wondering or didn't know

It had been a good dream, Edge was almost sure. He tried to think, tried to get back to it, but his mind was scattered and he couldn’t remember much more than curtains. Heavy, dark curtains and the pounding heart that he’d woken up with. The more he thought about it, the more he started to wonder and puzzle over the whole thing, trying to form a thought or two that just would not come.

The sheets were suffocating him for sure, and he kicked them away and thanked God that he’d had the thought to turn off the lights, and when he pressed the heel of his hand to his eye, he cursed God for the relief it didn’t bring.

He pulled the sheets back up and over him and they were cool against his cheek, his arm and he felt almost desperate for a bath, a shower, anything to fight away the aches in his joints and the dull turn of his stomach.

Edge was fighting a losing battle, he was well aware, and he stayed there hidden under the sheets until he could not bear it any longer. They came away damp, and he knew it was probably time to admit to himself that there might be a problem. He thought back to his dream, thought back to the curtains and knew there was more to it, but he felt like he was crawling out of his skin, and he knew he had to get up.

The pounding had started again, loud against the door until his head fell in time with it and Edge hated whoever was on the other side. He heard the voice, muffled and calling his name, and he reached out a hand towards the phone and knocked it off the hook. It would be the next step, he was sure, and he didn’t want to hear it start. There was one more knock and then the suite fell into silence, and Edge couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so thankful.He rolled back to the middle of the bed and watched the curtains shift in the breeze and blinked once, twice and found them hanging still. He blinked again and felt the grit there, and Edge wasn’t sure if he’d slept or not. He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling and grimaced at the dampness of his back, and he didn’t notice Bono enter the room until he was leaning over the bed with a frown on his face. He wasn’t surprised in the least. Bono had a knack for getting where he wanted.

The bed dipped and Edge watched Bono run a hand through his hair and smile, and he felt sour just from seeing it. “Well, I’m glad you’re not dead,” Bono said brightly, and looked Edge up and down. “Though you’re not far off.”

“Fuck off,” Edge said, and it didn’t come out like he’d wanted it to. He sighed at his own ineptitude and rolled back towards the window, and he waited for Bono to leave and knew he wouldn’t. He could hear Bono shifting and feel it through the bed, and he heard the slight clink of watch against necklace as Bono fidgeted and he felt better for it, in a way.

“Edge,” Bono said quietly. “What can I do?”

“I already told you,” Edge said, but his heart wasn’t in it, and when Bono’s hand touched his arm he didn’t pull away. He was hot though, too hot for a touch like that, but he didn’t tell Bono that, didn’t stop Bono from leaning in close and looking at his face, and he couldn’t hide his smile when the back of Bono’s hand found his cheek, cooler than his palm had been.

“Hmm,” Bono said and sat back, his hand slipping back down to the bed. “Seems like The Edge really is on fire.”

Edge laughed, he had to, and he didn’t have to see Bono’s face to know the satisfaction was there. He toed at the sheets and thought about pulling them back up, but he couldn’t bring himself to care and he waited for Bono to say more, to get close and talk too loud and say the right thing. He listened to Bono’s breathing, and then his weight left the bed and Edge listened to his footsteps, too loud on the fucking carpet until they padded onto tiles. He heard the water running and thought it was a good idea, water, and he closed his eyes and saw the Liffey in front of him and knew he was far from home.

His head felt thready and he listened to Bono move and shift, heading from one room to the other and running water and opening and closing cupboards, and it took all of Edge’s energy not to lose his mind. The bed dipped again and he opened his eyes to glare, but he couldn’t do it, not when Bono was smiling at him like that. It slipped away like nothing and he let Bono pull him up until his back pressed cool and wet against the pillows, and he leaned into it. “Hey,” Bono said, and pulled at Edge’s hand. He set a couple of pills into his palm and Edge stared at them until Bono nudged his arm. He set them on his tongue and took the glass of water Bono offered him, and he drank until he swallowed the pills and drank to wash away the sourness left behind.

He handed the glass back to Bono, who smiled at him like he’d just accomplished something huge, smiled like he might have done to one of his kids, and Edge felt like he didn’t deserve it. “Thanks.” Bono set the glass back on the counter and came back with a washcloth. “What’s that?”

“I’ve been told I give amazing sponge baths.” Bono shrugged his shoulders and raised an eyebrow, and Edge swallowed back the feeling threatening to rise and turned away, slid down until his head found the pillow. “Is that a no then?”

“Don’t touch me. I feel shit.”

He knew that Bono wasn’t going to listen to him, and he closed his eyes against the light and stretched his back trying to fight away the ache, and when the wash cloth touched at his neck he was ready for it, but it still startled him all the same. It felt cool, almost too cool to bear, but Edge leaned back against it and hoped for more. “Is that nice, Edge?”

Edge just sighed and he heard Bono’s chuckle, too close to his ear and too loud. He couldn’t bring himself to shove Bono back, and he didn’t really want to. He felt the wash cloth slide around until it tickled at his Adam’s apple, and Bono let go of it and left it there, confident that it wouldn’t slide off. He felt Bono’s breath on his cheek, hot, and felt his lips brush close to his ear, dry and warm and so much unlike the wash cloth against his skin, and Edge hummed in a way that he hoped Bono would understand. He felt Bono slip back and away, but he could hear his breath and he tried to match it. “You’ll get sick,” he said.

“I doubt it,” Bono said, and Edge could have laughed. “Do you want the sheet up?”

“No.”

“Alright.”

Edge changed his mind almost immediately and hoped that Bono might ask again, might take it upon himself to pull the sheet up anyway, but he just stayed there breathing. It was for the best, Edge was sure and he focused on the wash cloth at his neck, and it wasn’t nearly as cool or damp anymore, but it was better than nothing. He wondered if he should ask for some more water, but he felt so content in just staying there that any movement might be the end of him. He could see the Liffey, and he pictured himself jumping in and swimming back and forth until his arms grew tired and his body cold and he was left on his back just floating away. He thought about telling Bono about it, about a lot of things, and he pictured the water against his skin, surrounding him and he started to shake. The sheet came up and over him, and Edge had to smile.


End file.
